Discourse of Darkness
by A Purple Solace
Summary: Have you heard the song of the Dark? It starts off tantalizingly subtle, enticing you with its ghostly tune. Then it lures you to the poisonous fruits of its melody. And once you yield... You're forever dancing. You haven't? Shall I play it for you?
1. Prologue

**Title:** Discourse of Darkness  
**Rating: **T _(will probably go up in time)  
_**Warnings: **Blood, Light Gore

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It was an innocent looking shop, a hole in the wall that could only be seen specifically if you were squinting out the car to look. The outside was a plain whitewash that seemed to be browning with age, and there were no windows. The sign was little more than a piece of cardboard hanging from a stray nail in the doorframe. "Jane's Roses" it read. How Vernon had been able to find this place was beyond her.

Her husband wasn't the most cautious driver, neither the most polite. So between speeding and cursing about 'the twits that can't see straight' it didn't seem possible to Petunia that the man was able to spot this little place. Though he did, and it warmed her heart a little to see her husband go through all this trouble for their anniversary.

Though, it was now nine o'clock and Vernon still had not been home since he had left for work. And the only communication she had had with him was the note. She had been cleaning the kitchen awaiting Vernon's arrival from work, only to find a small sticky note that looked to be hastily scribbled. _'Got Dudders. Gone to get you, you.'_

She had smiled, remembering that line being said to her some seventeen years ago, back when her and Vernon were still dating. He had always brought her petunias from his mother's garden everyday, and said "Of course, what better flower could I have gifted to you but you?"

Though it did make her wonder what made him go to this particular shop, it looked like a prison. Not to mention it was in a seedier part of London. Where could he have found it? The only reason why she had been able to was because out of all the lists in the phone book registry, this was the only one circled.

She reached to knock on the door, but a draft blew and caused it to drift open, shivering slightly she stepped in.

Petunia wretched in her mouth, and scrunched her nose disdainfully. The room positively reeked. The smell was horrid, some cross between urine and copper with charred plaster. She reached a bony hand to wipe her eyes, which had started to tear. Blinking slightly, she saw that the room was in total chaos as though no one had lived here for ages. Wallpaper hung, as though they had been stripped from the walls in a fit of madness; and the remains that had stayed plastered looked as though brimstone had rained upon it and it was burned and tattered making it impossible to decipher what the original print was.

_Pit Pat_

Large chunks of mahogany littered the floor along with small splinters and the burnt remains of once exotic flowers. A desk laid smashed against the busted window, broken in two. It looked as though there had been a cage match to the death, this room the arena. Petunia coughed ruggedly, her hands trying desperately to cover her nose. The smell, if possible, seemed to be getting worse.

Petunia called. "Vernon?"

_Pit Pat_

"Dudley?"

Silence. She took an unconscious step back.

Petunia froze.

She padded her shoulder before slowly bringing it to her face. Her hand was stained crimson. Ice-cold dread washed over her, before she was compelled to look up. She gave a choked scream, before falling to her knees, her son's blood running down her face.

"_I will make you pay."_

Her eyes rolled up in a dead faint, while jade eyes watched from a far.

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**A/N** First and foremost if you are wanting a quick unbelievable descent into darkness for our favorite Griffindor, please push the back button now. This will be as realistic as I can manage meaning yes there will be the plot sub-plots and sub-plots to the sub-plots. Second realize that such a low word count is used for prologue purposes, real chapters will be between 5-10k. Depending on the kind of updates my reviews prefer. Third I am not a review whore. This story will not flip and twist for the wiles of my readers. If that were the case then why am I writing the story, you should instead. Fourth, pairings at the moment are irrelavent as the story doesn't revolve around romance.

This chapter was to test the waters. To see if anyone would be interested in this idea of mine. If you are indeed interested instead of putting this story on your alert, please take a few extra seconds to drop a review. Because when it really comes down to it, no one looks at the amount of hits/author alerts this story gets. It's all about reviews. So if you want to see this continue and flourish, take an extra to seconds to make a difference.


	2. Day

**Title:**_ Discourse of Darkness_  
**Rating: **_T_  
**Warnings: **_None- A/N at the bottom

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_

Day

Wash, wash, and wash. Rinse. Dry. Stack. Repeat.

This endless monotonous routine had been done in silence for over three hours straight. Had it not been for that gigantic send off they had had the day before there wouldn't be the equally mountainous pile of dirty dishes. In Petunia's mind, if the partygoers really wanted to wish them well, they would stay after and pick up the mess. After all, lip service meant nothing in the face of doom that took the manifestation of dirty dishes. That was a war none should have to fight. And that's why it made her positively giddy to know they'll have a maid already set and stationed in their soon-to-be residence in New York, America.

The company had sent them a picture of a gorgeous cottage house tucked within the quaint and closed knit community of Forest Hill Gardens. It was a warm and inviting little home with a charming stone front and a beautiful cream outer coating. It gave her a powerful sense of nostalgia.

Just looking at the house reminded her of the days that Lily and her would run through their town house in the Isles with their parents. It reminded her of the days of watching her mother bake contently in the kitchen the smell of vanilla wafting through the house. Before _it _came and ruined their lives. She remembered the old, worn wood flooring that covered the living room. It creaked, groaning whenever they walked.

"_Just like your back papa!" _

She remembered the backyard that had served as the girl's personal gateway to the world of infinite possibilities. From patched eyed pirates that sang raunchy drunkenly searching for treasure on the seven seas, to naughty little fairies that tickled their noses during camp outs and pulled Lily and her into impish fantasies. And then there was the hole.

Oh yes, the hole is what started it all. It had to have been. If Petunia hadn't slipped on a slick piece of rock while pretending to be 'Indiana Pet' she would have never fell onto the weak part of the fence which gave way to a wide, jagged hole in the wood. If she had never peeked her head outside in childish curiosity, Lily would have never pushed her through it; and in turned Lily wouldn't have followed her sister out of the hole in wonder of the new world outside the village.

And if they never had left the security that was their home they never would have found a park. A _public_ park. The kind of park Papa sternly forbids them from ever going to. Who knows who could be there, he said. But they didn't know, and it was forbidden two things that were maddening in its appeal. And through this temptation, their—her life went straight to hell.

"Push me higher 'tunia!" Giggled little Lily as she soared on the swing. The equipment groaned in the strain. Petunia bit her lip worriedly as the iron chain clinked once again.

"Careful Lil!" She warned getting an icy feeling of foreboding in her eleven-year-old body. Her sister only laughed though, her glittering green eyes shining with mirth. Petunia shook her head. "Don't blame me if you get hurt! Remember, I told you so!"

She never did understand how her sister seemed to be so…fearless. She watched absently as her little sister soared to and fro flailing her legs outward trying to gain height. Even when they had gone to the picture a few months back Lily didn't close her eyes once! And yet, she herself had hidden underneath her new turtleneck hoping the block the scary images from herself. It wasn't fair. Why was Lily so brave?

The sound of a scream sounded tearing her out of her reflecting. Petunia shrieked as Lily flew through the clearing into some brambles. Nearly tripping over herself, Petunia scrambled after her sister.

"_Lils! Lils where are you? Lily!" She screamed tears coming to her eyes. This was all her fault! She knew Lily was too high, she should have told her to come down! Oh where is she—_

"_Lily!"_

_Said girl was sitting against a tree along with another boy. The girl looked over, her eyes furrowing at the call of her name before she smiled brightly._

"'_tunia! This is Sev! Sev this is my sister, 'tunia!"_

_Petunia looked at the boy in contempt before turning to her sister in question. "Are you hurt? I've been calling you for ages!"_

_Well not really. But she should feel guilty! She was worried about her and, for goodness sakes; the girl is sitting here with a complete stranger with a _smile _on her face! She sighed inwardly. What would she do with her sister?_

_Lily frowned slightly. "I'm fine Petunia. You worry too much!"_

_The boy had yet to say anything. But instead seemed to be warily observing the two. He didn't look to be anything special. He had long oily black hair and a pale face. He was dressed in a dirty, overly large tee and some ripped jeans that looked like rags. Petunia sneered._

"_Lily, this boy is improper. Look at his clothes!" The boy cast his eyes down and Lily's eyes sparked in fiery defiance. "His hair is nasty looking and he's much to pale! Papa would never approve!"_

_The boy's face seemed to whiten further as he tried to shrink in on himself. Though Lily, completely opposite, seemed redden in anger._

"_For your information, Petunia, Sev is really nice and you're just being a fat meanie! Leave him alone!" Petunia colored in chagrin, but before she could make a nasty retort, the boy spoke._

"_It's okay Lillian, I'll go. I-I need to get home to father." Hurriedly standing the boy clumsily ran into the distance. Lily yelled into the distance for him to stop, but he just ran on. She whirled furiously on Petunia._

"_What was that for Petunia! He was nice! You had no reason to say those things. What if he doesn't come back?" Lily rambled crossly her face continued to redden._

_Petunia scoffed already heading back to the house, "good riddance" _

But of course it didn't discourage her stubborn sister one bit, in fact, now that she thought about it, it probable encouraged the hard headed girl. The days that followed were filled with unexpected meetings with the boy-'Severus' if she remembered correctly. They would be having pretend tea on Jupiter and the boy would run in looking like he had just gotten mugged, always bloody and the like. And of course Petunia sneered and jeered hoping to run off the boy, not because of pure spite (or maybe just a little) but mainly because you would have to be blind to see the pure adoration in his eyes whenever he looked at Lily. And then there was that feeling. That…_itchy _sense that told there was just something off about him.

Of course, as Lily's big sister, it was her responsibility to look after her. That was what her parents instilled into her at birth. So there was no way that she would let some greasy haired _freak_ come and destroy her little sister. Petunia nee Evans would not tolerate it. So she did what every other eleven year old would do.

Belittle. Scorn. Deride. Pick at any little fault and hope that her younger sibling would see the weirdness that was _Severus_. He just wasn't natural. A _freak._

Petunia packed away the last of the dishes, before picking up a dry towel, wiping off her hands. _Freak._

She winced at the word.

The woman remembered calling her sister the very same name. She remembered the hurt and betrayal that shone in her sister's green eyes. But as a child she only saw the unfairness of it all. The pride that shone in her parents' eyes should have been hers. The new books and new school should have been hers. The _magic _should have been hers!

Though, as a child she thought as a child. Though now at forty, thirty years later…

Petunia thought differently.

Maybe it was a good thing that she wasn't apart of the magical community after all. She remembered exchanging letters with her sister a few springs back. And of course at the beginning, everything seemed to be sunshine and daisies for her sister. A new husband, a new job, a new baby…

Then things changed.

Last winter her replies started to get morbid. Apparently, there was a war that was transpiring in the wizarding world and by the looks of the letters, Petunia was all too happy to stay out of it. A second World War I by the looks of it, and this 'Dark Lord' seemed to be Hitler on steroids.

Her sister was on the side of the 'Light' the losing side based on the loose descriptions in the letters. Every week her sister reported more deaths of muggles (non magical people she gathered) and begged her to pack up and leave the country. And if all this was as bad as she said it was, moving to America will be a godsend.

Though only a few months ago, Lily stopped writing. Petunia puzzled over this for many days, for Lily's replies never took longer than a week at most. But weeks had passed, and Petunia assumed she must have gone into hiding like she had suggested. After all, this was not the time to be raising a child.

Petunia sighed balefully and looked out the window. It was All Hallows today, and for a goodbye, Vernon promised Dudley he could go out with the neighbors today to go Trick-or-Treating around the neighborhood. Petunia didn't like that idea. The boy was only six for goodness sake! He could get hurt, or mugged, or poisoned! No, in fact the more she thought about it, the more she grew against the idea. Giving a firm nod to herself, Petunia grabbed a Sharpie from of the counter labeling the box '**China-Fragile**'

After all, she reasoned with herself, she could always buy him candy in New York.

She stole another glance at the clock. It was nearing eleven and Dudley will be home soon. Petunia strode purposefully to the refrigerator. As she opened the refrigerator, the ritual breeze of cold washed over her. She shivered slightly, before giving a frown to the contents. Everything was exactly how it was the night before. That's strange…

Usually Vernon would help himself to half the fridge, while Dudley brought up the rear attacking from the shadows. Though ever since the Revolution, they ate slightly less than they did before.

The 'Revolution' was what Petunia had ended up calling the day of repentance when it came to stocking the fridge. It happened a little over three months ago, when Petunia dragged ("My boy don't need no doctor! He's perfectly fine!") Dudley to the doctor for his check-up that his teacher recommended. Turns out, Dudley was running the risk of being a diabetic with his weight gain and at the rate he was going he wouldn't live to see thirty. And thus, being the ever-responsible woman of the home, Petunia acted. She had dumped the entire refrigerator despite the protests (sobs) of her husband and child. And stocked it with fresh produce, bread, and salad all of which the doctor prescribed. Apples, oranges, grapes, broccoli and salad still dominated the fridge unharmed. She shrugged.

They must not have been hungry.

Though, she was seeing dramatic changes with Dudley as his weight was at 68 kg and now he was a healthy 45 kg at a height of 152 cm. The diet also seemed to have an internal change in the boy. He scowled less it seemed and she had even seen him playing civilly with other children a few weeks ago! (A feat that would have seemed laughable months before.)

Changes seemed to be happening at every turn; life was starting to pick up again. She giggled slightly before taking some tomatoes out of the drawer, she felt like twenty again. Little did she know exactly how much her life would be changing very soon all having to do with a little baby with the scar on his forehead and a destiny on his shoulders.

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**A/N** You see a bit of Petunia in this chapter and her mind, which becomes very important later. Why per se, I'm not telling. Second notice I made Dudley five years older than Harry. Third I am not British and do not live in the UK and so I am not familiar with English terms, I tried to the best of my abilities to convert what I wanted to get across in UK terminology I am sorry if I failed. Also, thanks for the reviewers I have and I hope to see more.

I notice I have many story alerts though less reviews. I suppose I understand this, though I hope this chapter merited a review from my silent readers. Signed or not they are all welcome and appreciated.


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